


Foreign towers

by afrai



Category: Bleach, Fairytales
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-01
Updated: 2007-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrai/pseuds/afrai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She did not blame her brother, who had never claimed to love her. It was her dead sister who had loved her. It was Hisana who kept her trapped, from beyond the grave. Love like a tower, love like a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreign towers

**Author's Note:**

> Some time ago I started picking particularly evocative lines out of spam e-mails. I spun this story off one of those lines. Google informs me that it is from a song.
> 
> _Don't get caught in foreign towers._

The Kuchiki do not curse, but Rukia came perilously close to it for a moment. Years of training came to her aid; she choked down the oaths, tasting the dirt and foul air of Rukongai, and said instead,

"Where is this?"

She was all briskness. The girl cowering in a corner of the tiny room still looked as if she would bolt at any unexpected movement, but Rukia's tone calmed her.

"Where did you come from?" she said timidly. "Did Dame Gothel send you?"

"Who?" said Rukia, who was not really listening. Ichigo would have been able to warn the girl that Rukia was hardly ever interested in answers to her questions: she asked them for specific reasons, but these very rarely comprised anything so innocent as a desire to gain information. She asked to unbalance, to distract, to mislead; in this case she was asking simply because speech was more likely to calm the child than silence.

"My -- mother," said the girl.

"Who?"

The girl's eyes darted from side to side.

"Surely you know," she said in a small voice. "The witch."

Rukia thought confusedly of Yoruichi, then dismissed the image. There were more important things to be discussing.

"What's this made of?" She rapped the wall of the room they were in. There was a window set low in the wall. A person might climb into the room through it if they didn't mind wiggling, but it was not a large window by most standards. To Rukia its size appeared generous.

She was acquainted with towers. She did not like them.

"It's made from bone," stammered the girl. "She built it for love of me."

They imprison you, of course, for your own good. They send you away from the battlefield for your own good. They had passed over her for years: never a promotion, every post she _knew_ she would have done well with given to another. She had thought it was because she was not good enough.

"How did you come here?" said the child. "I did not let down my hair for you."

"Probably magic," said Rukia. The portal had been lying around Urahara's backyard. She'd decided he would not notice if she used it, and she had not been in the mood to think before she leapt. "What's this about your hair?"

The girl told her, while Rukia looked out of the window. Outside, the world, but look straight down and there was nothing but bone, a sheer smooth wall of it. You could slide down it to your death -- or climb up, if you got yourself a girl who didn't mind the burning sensation in her scalp. Who didn't have a choice.

They take your choices away from you because they love you. "He meant well," Ukitake had said, the only one who had not seen in the blankness of her expression stunned gratitude. He had seen the rage.

"Forgive him," he had said. "He made a promise."

But she did not blame her brother, who had never claimed to love her. It was her dead sister who had loved her. It was Hisana who kept her trapped, from beyond the grave. Love like a tower, love like a wall.

The girl broke off in the middle of her story when Rukia leaned out of the window. "Take care, my lady, it is very high -- oh!"

Rukia vanished from sight. Rapunzel rushed to the window, her heart in her mouth. She had never killed a person before --

"I did that on purpose," said Rukia crossly. She was sprawled on the highest step of a winding flight of stairs. The ice gleamed in the sun.

It went all the way down.

Rukia picked herself up. "It will start to melt soon," she said self-deprecatingly, but she could not quite keep the smugness out of her voice. "Are you coming?"

That was the day Rapunzel learnt about love like an open hand. Love like a stairway.

"It is a desert out there," said Rapunzel. "Naught but thorns and wild animals."

"Good. At least there will be something to eat," said Rukia. "You can stay if you wish -- " Her voice said what she thought of such a ridiculous wish -- "but if you come with me I will prote -- I will teach you to protect yourself.

"We will make it so that you will not have to be rescued ever again," she said.

Rapunzel took her hand.

"I do not think I mind being rescued," she said.

"It is not as much fun as you think," Rukia told her. "After the first time it begins to pall."

When they reached the last step Rukia stopped her. "Before we go, I should tell you one last thing," she said; Rapunzel nodded, eyes wide and ears open, every hair alive with eagerness to learn. She was so engaged in appearing biddable that she barely caught a glimpse of shining steel before the blade sheared through her hair.

Golden sheets folded onto the ground. Rapunzel raised her hands to her head. She could feel the breeze on the back of her neck. Her head was suddenly light.

"Now it won't get caught on thorns," said Rukia, "or towers." She seemed pleased.


End file.
